It's here.
Well, the "a" is, anyway.
The rest of the word will arrive tomorrow evening after I deposit Veggie on a plane to the UK.
But this morning I distinctly felt the "a" . . . as I gladly waved goodbye to Trigger, Ponzi, and Mr. Drip-Dry as they left on their annual service trip to repair homes in the Appalachian region of West Virginia. Don't forget to call! I yelled as I watched the caravan depart the church parking lot. . .
. . . after which, I quickly scurried home to make a clean sweep of the house - spraying Febreeze . . . dumping water bottles. . . locating remote controls . . . scrubbing heel marks from the living room coffeetable. . . discarding gum wrappers. . . and eradicating bathroom hair art like an errant etch-a-sketch project. . . until - at last - the house contained no hint of the packing frenzy that had unfolded in those very rooms just two hours earlier, and the only item that remained out of place was my happy dance.
And so begins My Perfect Week, my friends.
And God help anyone who tries to mess it up!
